


The fine art of reverse assassination

by ramblingfangirl



Series: ZevWarden Week 2017 [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Before Landsmeet, Caring more than you admit, Day 5: Character Development, Denial of Feelings, Established Relationship, Fifth Blight, Other, Poisoning, Referenced past deaths, Reverse Assassination, Self-care is important, Teamwork, Zevran POV, Zevran being Zevran, Zevran/Warden Week, Zevran/Warden Week 2017, minor foul language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-08 22:45:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11656236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ramblingfangirl/pseuds/ramblingfangirl
Summary: The night wasn't particularly unusual for Zevran. In fact, it was frankly dull, with his dear grey warden having gone out with some of the team "muscle" for some task and him being left behind at camp with nothing to do but make sure his aim with his knives didn't get rusty.Then he heard the screaming.





	The fine art of reverse assassination

**Author's Note:**

> For reference, this takes place while the group are en-route to the Landsmeet. Arl Eamon and other nobles aren't there because they've gone ahead to prepare things in Denerim for the Landsmeet and when Alistair does arrive.

_*Thwack*_ _*Thwack*_ _*Thwack*_

Get up, go over to the tree, collect the knives and then repeat.

 _*Thwack*_ _*Thwack*_ _*Thwack*_

Zevran sighed. It wasn't that the knives weren't hitting the target, his aim was just as sharp as always, serving as testament that his being in-between jobs, so to speak, hadn't caused his assassination skills to go rusty. 

Normally, that would be enough to occupy and even entertain him, keep him mind on track, practicing how to efficiently murder. 

But it simple wasn't working tonight.

He was _bored_.

He was bored and his mind refused to remain on task.

In fact, it kept drifting again and again to matters such as the upcoming Landsemeet, and the likelihood that there would surely be many assassins present.

He'd been to such political events himself before, and was well aware that such occasions had an undeniable allure for a humble Crow such as himself. So full of opportunities to take advantage of, in order to make someone _disappear_.

But this time, he wasn't going to be there for a target. In fact, this time, he and the rest of the group were in all likelihood going to _be_ the prime targets

And he...he didn't like that feeling. No, he didn't like it at all.

So he really shouldn't be letting his mind wander. He had to be ready, prepared for what was to come. Some assassins would likely not wait for them to reach Denerim, they were a relatively small group traversing down an isolated route, after all, an ambush could occur any moment.

So of course, his dear warden had chosen now to go off on some task or other, with the team _muscle._

 _He_ had muscle. Certainly, he might not have those many shoulders like their rugged Templar fellow, or be made of solid rock like their glittering golem, but he was very lean and possessed a great level of dexterity that would have made him most useful on the quest.

And indeed, he made that quite clear to their leader before they departed.

But alas, no. He was to stay here and _watch the camp_  while they went and got to have all the fun.

And on top of that, the hound had been instructed to make sure he did not try to follow regardless, a task which the four-legged fellow seemed quite committed to following through. He'd almost be impressed with the dedication, were it not him it was inconveniencing.

That was morning.

It was now quite late and they still had not returned.

Usually, by this time, he and the Warden would be in their tent by now, having another sort of _fun_. 

But still, no sign of their return.

Not a single peep.

He tried to tell himself he wasn't concerned. The Warden was more than capable of looking after themself, their first meeting alone being proof enough of that.

All would be fine.

They'd be back soon enough.

So, for now, he would keep trying to drown out his thoughts with the sound of metal embedding in wood.

_*Thwack* *Thwack* *Thwack*_

And then the mabari started barking, howling in the most distraught manner before bounding off after something.

His knife that time missed widely as he wondered what the ears of his furry friend had picked up on to set him off like that.

And then his ears picked up on it too.

That was screaming.

Getting closer and closer, the source heading directly towards camp.

That was- _no!_

He was up in a flash and racing through the camp, rousing? yelling at the humans and dwarf about how something was wrong and that they had to prepare themselves _now_!

 _Braska_! This is taking too long! He'd perhaps be better off just following the hound into the woods himself-

\- It turned out there was no need. Just as Zev was about to go running into the woods, Alistair comes bursting out of it, screaming for Wynne.

"What's wrong Alistair?" The eldelrly mage asked, as Alistair grabbed and started pulling her off.

"Yes, what's he prattling on about now? T'would seem the man has finally lost it." Morrigan mused, but even she had joined the rest for her little camp and had a look of weariness about her.

A variation of "Where's the others?" was then asked again and again as Alistair again and again failed to calm down enough to say something more detailed than "something was wrong."

Zev and Morrigan were both perhaps a bit...harsher in their phrasing in most when they asked that question.

And then came the familiar sounds of a thudding golem, the mutterings of a qunari and the keening whimper of a distraught mabari.

"They just _collapsed_ and started I-" Alistair put his head in his hands, voice catching for a moment. Faintly, just faintly he could be heard saying " _Not again. I can't lose anyone again."_

And, for once, the rest of the camp is silent, as the rest of the outgoing team returned.

With their dear leader slung over the shoulder of the golem, twitching, with some _wetness_ dripping onto the golem from where they lay.

_No._

"Something's wrong with it. It-"

The moment of silence abruptly _shatters_ the secondShalestarts speaking, turning instead into yells and thudding boots as they start moving towards Shale and the twitching figure that they carried.

Shale placed the warden down onto the ground with a level of care that would have been surprising had Zevran been paying any attention to that. 

He was down on his knees besides his warden in an instant, examining them, his heart pounding faster and faster as he took in the symptoms.

Spasms.

Eyes glazed over, unseeing.

Their skin so hot it almost burned to touch.

Blood trickling from their nose and leaking from the sides of their mouth with each fresh wet wheeze, as they fought to be able to breathe.

This was...oh no...oh braska he needed to see the wound n-

"Out of the way!" Morrigan snapped as she barged in, knocking him out of the way, to kneel beside their downed warden, closely followed by Wynne.

"What happened?" She snapped at the golem and qunari, a sentiment quickly echoed more politely by Wynne, who was working on looking for the wound.

Zevran didn't need to ask. He'd seen this before.

"There was an ambush. They took a blow, but it was shallow enough that we thought nothing of it and continued on. But it seems that the blades of the assailants were-"  Sten started.

"Poisoned. This is poison. How long?" Zevran snapped. He needed to know how long this had been in their system.

Sten glared at the interruption, but it was nowhere near the usual level of intensity and disdain he had when interacting with the elf. "Hours. But the blood is recent."

" _How_ _many hours?_ " Not specific enough, nowhere near specific enough

"We need to get them to my tent. Morrigan, help me move them." Wynne spoke, trying to hoist up the Warden. Morrigan complied.

"Everyone else, out of the way, you'll do more harm than good hovering." She demanded to the crowd, quickly making haste with the other mage to the tent.

"Wait!" Zevran called, following after them

"Not now Zevran, stay put!" Wynne didn't even glance at him as she ducked into the tent.

Zevran, of course, ignored that instruction, ducking in after them.

"Morrigan pass me that elfroot we need to- Out Zevran!"

"Ah, but I wish to offer my assistance. I believe you'll find that I am an expert, so to speak, on matters of poison, after all." He fought to maintain a cool, blasé demeanour, but the smile was blatantly faked.

Wynne and Morrigan continued working for a moment, Morrigan genuinely ignoring the offer and scowling at him but Wynne...

"Alright. But don't think we won't be watching you."

That was all Zevran needed to hear, before he was again at his dear warden's side, examining the now exposed wound.

"What?! The assassin?! What's to say-" 

"Do you have a better suggestion Morrigan? We can stabilise them with the healing magic but we'll need to know what the poison is and how to cure it if we want any hope of-"

Zevran tuned them out, trying not to let himself be insulted by Morrigan's distrust for him.

He had been in the presence of the Warden sleeping, had them alone with their back to him, dozens of times. All opportunities which he, as a trained assassin could have taken advantage of, _should_ have taken advantage of.

In fact, he should be walking off right now, leaving them to their fate. He could claim credit, that this had been his dastardly plan all along and return home to Antiva. 

All he had to do, was let them die.

Like he has so many others.

But he hadn't....He cou-

He was an assassin this should be easy, but he...

He...

...

The wound was no longer bleeding, nor did it seem to be leaking any pus, but the bulging veins nearby had taken on a putrid green colour.

He knew exactly what this was.

And it was _nasty_. 

He quickly shared what it was with the women and the three worked together after that, for what could only have been minutes of hurried concoctions and cast spells but felt like days, weeks even.

Everything had to be so very precise in order for this to work, for this to save them and the fear of it going wrong was like a tangible weight pressing down on all of them. 

He was to make the antidote while Morrigan and Wynne kept their leader alive long enough for him to do so.

...And kept them pinned down long enough for him to administer it.

And then it was done.

The blood stopped dripping and their shallow, rapid wheezing breathes, deepened and regained a steady rhythm.

They were going to live.

Wynne and Morrigan had put their foot down on his presence after that quite fiercely, saying that the warden needed some space to sleep.

And he reluctantly complied.

After all, what was he but a gentleman?

They would be fine. _Antidotes_ weren't his usual forte but he was still skilled it. As skilled as he was handsome in fact, and he was very handsome.

They would be fine.

He'd seen them.

They had to be.

So now, he was back to doing the exact same thing as before: throwing knives and trying to keep his mind from wondering.

_*Thwack* *Thwack* *Thwack*_

Funnily enough, he still wasn't having much luck with that.

There was, however, one benefit to that particular failure to focus.

It meant he noticed the approach of the witch, well in advance.

"T'would seem that our leader wished to see you. I would not disappoint them, were I you." Morrigan spoke with her yellow eyes narrowed.

"Do I ever?" Zev didn't need to be prompted again.

He made his way towards the tent quickly, ignoring the slander about him disappointed the warden being spoken by the tailing witch behind him.

But when he actually got there, he paused, realising he had no idea what was going to be said.

"Well, get on with it then." It seemed that Morrigan was going to be waiting outside the tent, having appointed herself as a bodyguard of sorts.

Well no matter.

His Warden wanted to see him, so see him he shall.

And so he ducked in, almost tripping over the mabari sleeping at his warden's feet as he did so.

"Miss me?" 

"Hi Zev." Came the reply. So they were able to speak again already. Sure, the voice was raspy, tired, but it was still there. That was definitely a good sign.

"Feeling any better?" He sat down besides them, putting on what he thought was his most charming smile.

_That was quite the scare you gave us all._

 A snort. "Feeling like shit, but alive shit. I heard you helped make sure of that."

"Oh, that I did. It was a more complex poison, I'll tell you that, but I'd see it used before." He said lightly.

_Children huddled together as they were pricked with coated needles, not one peep made out of any of them. They all knew what happened if you showed pain."If you want to be a Crow, you need to be able to know your poisons. Identify and find a cure to this one and you pass your test, if not, then the poison will do our work for us" the Master has said. The weakest had nosebleeds within the hour._

"No match for my amazing talents. You were in quite safe hands, my dear." 

"I know." A smile. "You're probably wondering why I set Morrigan after you."

"Surely because you missed my wonderous, charming presence, no?"

"That too, but I also wanted to say thanks. Thanks for helping to save my life. I appreciate it."

"You're most welcome my dear warden! But really, I had no choice! After all the effort _I_ put into trying to assassinate you, for someone else to succeed instead? Now that would be an _insult_!" 

A small, weak laugh at that. "Who would think if they saw us now that our first meeting was you trying to kill me?"  

"True, true." He quipped, his face briefly taking on an unreadable expression.

_Who would indeed?_

"But I must ask, that poison...slow to kill, it may be, but you usually start to feel it quite soon...or so I have heard...you did not notice?'

The Warden sighed. "I did. But I thought it was nothing important. I was injured, I was tired and I was hungry, it was all just getting to my head and making me feel worse than usual. We had a mission to complete so best to just keep walking and deal with it later." They paused, biting their lip in apparent thought. "Always been bad at self-care. Next time I get stabbed I promise to take it more seriously."

"Then that is all that I can ask." 

They sit in silence for a bit after that, simply thinking and taking in each other's presence.

"Could you give me a hand?" The Warden asked, shuffling about in their bed roll. 

"Hmm?"

"A hand up? Best let the rest of the camp know I'm not dead." 

"Are you quite certain?" He asked, examining them. He would easily do it, but he just wanted to make sure first.

Then came that familiar, lovely, wicked grin. "Always."

And with that, two hands clasped firmly together.

They would both probably be at risk of being killed by Wynne for this: Warden breaking bedrest and Zev assisting in them doing so, but he was certain he could charm his way out of it. 

"Then, _lets_."

 


End file.
